By |

I fear too many fail to understand

what’s come before us

how morning breaks its yolk of promise

in a world whose inhabitants

either flock to the light

or shy away from its brilliance

By |

when the only thing to rile the crowd

was a president in a tan suit

or a dead mouse in a can of soup,

the price of stamps

hiked up another two cents.

*

every day now —

EVERY DAY! —

there’s a new disgrace,

a new outrage,

another reason to doubt

we’re still living

in the greatest country on earth.

*

i’m so tired of it, aren’t you?

By |

bluest of skies

wispy planes of cloud

Canada geese circle overhead,

seeking soft spots to land

*

as I watch them in flight,

Morning Joe reports

on the ICE-ugliness in Minneapolis

and elsewhere in the country

*

the contrast could not be more stark

one, a calming natural phenomenon

the other, a danger to our very being

By |

necklaces, earrings & bracelets —

a snarled, tangled mess

of baubles & beads.

*

a few broken chains,

missing pieces,

gems with a tarnished

*

or lackluster finish —

still, I’m thrilled

for every salvaged bit of it.

*

sorting through what remains,

I’ll wear her close to me,

a cherished means of remembrance.

By |

what the hell? to my cousins up north, to the guy down the street, to my husband’s cousins and his aunt, to my sisters and their spouses ~

really? you’re all okay with this? I am OUTRAGED.

By |

puppy’s taut leash-shadow vibrates with energy

he’s matured, a bit, so now it wobbles and droops

later, when senior years prevail, his leash will vanish

as it, and he, both trail behind so I might no longer see

By |

teal accents, a sunflower or two

pads of paper, an assortment of pens

framed photo of a blue daisy

poking its head among fallen leaves

a woven basket, giant copper paper clips

token keychains, fond recollections

truly, it is the little things

joyful contributions to lives well-lived